Your True Direction

Tag: Narcissism

  • If My Pride Offends You, That’s the Point

    Your True Direction

    This isn’t a phase. This isn’t a performance. This is my truth — loud, raw, and unapologetic. If it makes you uncomfortable, that’s the point. 🏳️‍🌈🔥

    Yeah.

    I’m gay.

    And I say it with my whole chest.

    Not just a whisper in safe spaces.

    Not just a hashtag in June.

    Not just when I’m around people who “get it.”

    I’m gay. Loud. Proud. And not here to make it easier for you to swallow.

    You uncomfortable?

    Good.

    Sit in it.

    Because I marinated in your comfort for years —

    choking on my own truth

    so you could keep sipping coffee in your illusion.

    I’ve had people look me dead in the face and say,

    “I don’t care what you do — just don’t make it political.”

    But my existence has always been political.

    You politicized me before I ever opened my mouth.

    Before I ever held the hand of someone I loved.

    Before I ever said the words out loud that almost killed me in silence.

    You don’t get to say

    “Live and let live”

    and then look away when laws strip my humanity.

    You don’t get to say

    “I have no problem with gay people”

    but then flinch when we stop apologizing for being visible.

    You don’t get to play peacekeeper

    when you’ve been sitting on the side of the oppressor

    just because you weren’t holding the weapon.

    Let me make this clear:

    I don’t exist for your approval.

    I don’t walk into rooms hoping to be tolerated.

    I walk in knowing I belong — whether you like it or not.

    I’ve spent years editing myself,

    softening my voice,

    adjusting the way I speak,

    the way I dress,

    the way I breathe —

    just to make myself smaller for a world that couldn’t handle someone like me.

    And now?

    Now I expand.

    Now I take up space.

    Now I let every ounce of who I am fill the room,

    because I’m done pretending that survival is the same thing as peace.

    You don’t know what it’s like

    to love with one eye over your shoulder.

    To laugh carefully.

    To watch how you sit, speak, smile, exist —

    because any part of you might give away a truth

    they’re still ready to crucify.

    But I do.

    And I survived it.

    So I’m not going back.

    You wanna roll your eyes at Pride?

    You wanna call it “too much”?

    You wanna scoff at the flags,

    the colors,

    the noise?

    That’s because you’ve never had to fight

    just to feel normal in your own f*cking skin.

    Pride isn’t decoration.

    It’s declaration.

    It’s defiance.

    It’s a middle finger to every system, every church, every family

    that made us believe we were born broken.

    So yeah.

    I’m gay.

    And I don’t owe you an explanation.

    I don’t owe you a filter.

    I don’t owe you the watered-down version

    that makes you feel okay.

    You don’t like it?

    Block me.

    Mute me.

    Write me off.

    But what you won’t do — what you can’t do — is erase me.

    Because I’m not going anywhere.

    I’m not some trend.

    Not some “phase.”

    Not some character in a sitcom made for your entertainment.

    I am real.

    I am alive.

    I am not asking.

    I speak now for every queer kid who’s still hiding.

    For every adult who still flinches when someone asks about their personal life.

    For every soul who thought loving who they love meant losing everything else.

    I speak now because silence was never peace —

    it was a slow death dressed in politeness.

    But this?

    This is life.

    This is freedom.

    This is fire.

    So if my truth is too loud for you,

    cover your ears.

    But don’t expect me to lower my voice.

    Because I was quiet once.

    And it almost destroyed me.

    Now I live with the volume all the way up.

    And I’m not turning it down for anyone.

    Happy Pride.

    We’re not here to be liked.

    We’re here to live.

    We’re here to lead.

    We’re here to burn down every lie

    that told us we had to earn the right to exist.

    Yes.

    I’m gay.

    And if you can’t handle that —

    that’s a you problem.

    Enjoyed this article? Please support our work!

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    About Your True Direction

    I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.

    I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.

    That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.

    Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.

    Connect with Us

    Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.

    Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.

  • If My Pride Offends You – That’s the Point

    A letter to the mother who taught me how to hide myself.

    Your True Direction

    For every son or daughter who’s ever been told to tone it down, hide who they are, or “keep it in the family” – this is for you.

    For every queer kid whose parents tried to shove them back in the closet after they finally broke free of it.

    This isn’t a plea for acceptance.

    It’s a warning shot.

    We’re done apologizing.

    I walked away from the house that taught me to hate my own reflection – and I didn’t look back.

    Mom,

    Let’s cut through the crap.

    That poem I posted – “If My Pride Offends You, That’s the Point” –

    Yeah. That was about you.

    Every single line.

    Every word carved out of the silence you insisted I keep.

    Every sentence soaked in all the times I swallowed myself to keep you comfortable.

    You want to know why I wrote it?

    Why I don’t come around anymore?

    Why the version of me who still wanted your approval is dead and buried?

    Because I got tired of being the only one who ever had to shrink.

    Let’s go back.

    When I told you I wanted to marry Chris,

    you didn’t smile.

    You didn’t cry happy tears.

    You didn’t ask what kind of cake we were having or what colors we picked.

    You looked me dead in the eye and said,

    “Are you sure?”

    Like I just told you I was getting a face tattoo, not committing my life to the person I love.

    Then you tried to walk it back.

    Tried to say you asked Benny and Ashley the same thing.

    No, you didn’t.

    Don’t insult my intelligence.

    You celebrated their love because it fit inside your box.

    You accepted their marriages without a flinch.

    But with me?

    You flinched.

    And then came the wedding.

    Your judgment didn’t stop.

    You said we shouldn’t dance.

    Because “someone might not like it.”

    You ever ask me if I liked spending my life editing who I am just to be allowed in a room?

    You didn’t care about that.

    You cared about optics.

    About shame.

    About what people would say.

    Then Dad didn’t show up.

    And you say, “I argued with him.”

    Really?

    When?

    Where?

    Because I never saw it.

    You didn’t raise your voice.

    You didn’t defend me.

    You didn’t say,

    “Then I’m not going either.”

    You didn’t say,

    “That’s your son, and he matters.”

    You just stayed quiet.

    Sat in it.

    Normalized it.

    You want points for arguing behind closed doors?

    You don’t get credit for invisible battles when your son was left standing alone at his own wedding.

    And if all that wasn’t enough?

    Let’s talk about Thanksgiving.

    Our first one after we were married.

    Chris and I show up – husband and husband.

    Legal. Legitimate. Real.

    And what do you do?

    You introduce him as “Ryan’s friend.”

    Not my partner.

    Not my husband.

    Not family.

    A friend.

    And when my nephew tried to introduce Chris properly,

    you corrected him.

    You corrected him.

    Let’s talk about that, Mom.

    Because what you said in that moment was loud as hell:

    That I was an embarrassment.

    That Chris, who is legally part of this family, wasn’t welcome as who he was.

    That being gay is something to downplay, something to manage, something to cover in polite company.

    What if Cody was gay?

    What did you just teach him?

    That if he ever loved differently, he’d have to hide it?

    That his truth would embarrass you, too?

    Because that’s what you said without saying it.

    And let me tell you:

    I heard you.

    He heard you.

    Everyone heard you.

    I used to think you just didn’t understand.

    But now I realize you did.

    And you chose silence anyway.

    You say, “I’ve always loved you.”

    No, Mom.

    You loved the version of me that was small.

    Quiet.

    Careful.

    Filtered.

    Tolerable.

    You loved me when I was convenient.

    But every time I stepped closer to truth – you stepped back.

    That poem?

    That wasn’t for show.

    That was the sound of my ribs cracking open so my soul could finally breathe.

    It was everything I never got to say while you smiled and shifted and pretended everything was fine.

    You’ve said things like, “Don’t post that.”

    “Don’t say that at dinner.”

    “Keep it private.”

    No.

    I’m done keeping your secrets.

    Done protecting people who never protected me.

    Done tiptoeing around your shame like it’s my burden to carry.

    If my pride offends you?

    Good. That means it’s working.

    Because I’m not here to make it easy for you anymore.

    I’m not here to fold my love into something that fits your dinner plates.

    I’m not here to pretend your silence was love when it was just fear wearing a cardigan.

    You had a chance to love me boldly.

    You had a chance to say,

    “That’s my son. That’s his husband. This is family.”

    You didn’t.

    You chose quiet.

    You chose image.

    You chose your comfort over my dignity.

    So no, I don’t call.

    No, I don’t come around.

    Because every time I did, I had to leave pieces of myself at the door.

    And now?

    I refuse.

    I take up space.

    I speak loud.

    I post what I want.

    I dance with my husband.

    And if that makes you uncomfortable?

    That’s. The. Point.

    You had your chance to show up.

    You had your chance to speak out.

    You had your chance to be proud.

    Now I’ll do it for myself.

    And I won’t lower the volume just because you’re still not ready to hear the truth.

    – Ryan

    Enjoyed this article? Please support our work!

    ☕ Buy me a coffee: Thank You!

    About Your True Direction

    I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.

    I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.

    That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.

    Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.

    Connect with Us

    Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.

    Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.

  • The Boy I Once Was

    Trigger warning: He’s still watching.

    Your True Direction

    “The boy I buried didn’t die – he waited. Behind every crack, every scar, every silence I called strength. He’s not haunting me. He’s reminding me who the hell I was before the world got loud.”

    The boy I once was?

    Oh, he was a goddamn legend.

    He believed cereal could fix anything,

    that Band-Aids healed betrayal,

    and that adults actually knew what they were doing.

    (Adorable, right?)

    He thought love meant forever.

    Thought saying sorry meant something.

    Thought being “good” earned you safety.

    Spoiler:

    It didn’t.

    It doesn’t.

    He used to stare out windows and dream in color.

    Now I scroll through screens and call that vision.

    He built forts to keep the world out.

    Now I build walls and call it “boundaries.”

    He cried when people yelled.

    Now I flinch when someone cares.

    And somewhere between “be yourself” and “grow up,”

    he got stuffed into a box labeled “too much.”

    Too loud. Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too intense.

    So I dulled him down into a version of myself

    that fit other people’s expectations.

    Congrats, world.

    You win.

    He’s quieter now.

    Until 2AM – when he rips through my chest

    asking why I let him disappear.

    And I don’t have an answer.

    Just more silence.

    But hey –

    at least I’m employed, right?

    At least I pay my taxes, don’t cry in public,

    and answer “I’m good” like it’s a sacred chant.

    The boy I once was would call bullshit on all of it.

    He’d stand on the table and yell,

    “This is the life you chose?”

    And I’d look him in the eye

    and whisper –

    No.

    But it’s the life I settled for.

    Not anymore.

    He’s back.

    With messy hair, scraped knees, and a thousand unspoken questions.

    He’s not here for revenge.

    He’s here for rescue.

    And I’m done leaving him behind.

    Enjoyed this article? Please support our work!

    ☕ Buy me a coffee: Thank You!

    About Your True Direction

    I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.

    I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.

    That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.

    Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.

    Connect with Us

    Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.

    Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.

  • The Boy I Once Was

    Trigger warning: He’s still watching.

    Your True Direction

    “The boy I buried didn’t die – he waited. Behind every crack, every scar, every silence I called strength. He’s not haunting me. He’s reminding me who the hell I was before the world got loud.”

    The boy I once was?

    Oh, he was a goddamn legend.

    He believed cereal could fix anything,

    that Band-Aids healed betrayal,

    and that adults actually knew what they were doing.

    (Adorable, right?)

    He thought love meant forever.

    Thought saying sorry meant something.

    Thought being “good” earned you safety.

    Spoiler:

    It didn’t.

    It doesn’t.

    He used to stare out windows and dream in color.

    Now I scroll through screens and call that vision.

    He built forts to keep the world out.

    Now I build walls and call it “boundaries.”

    He cried when people yelled.

    Now I flinch when someone cares.

    And somewhere between “be yourself” and “grow up,”

    he got stuffed into a box labeled “too much.”

    Too loud. Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too intense.

    So I dulled him down into a version of myself

    that fit other people’s expectations.

    Congrats, world.

    You win.

    He’s quieter now.

    Until 2AM – when he rips through my chest

    asking why I let him disappear.

    And I don’t have an answer.

    Just more silence.

    But hey –

    at least I’m employed, right?

    At least I pay my taxes, don’t cry in public,

    and answer “I’m good” like it’s a sacred chant.

    The boy I once was would call bullshit on all of it.

    He’d stand on the table and yell,

    “This is the life you chose?”

    And I’d look him in the eye

    and whisper –

    No.

    But it’s the life I settled for.

    Not anymore.

    He’s back.

    With messy hair, scraped knees, and a thousand unspoken questions.

    He’s not here for revenge.

    He’s here for rescue.

    And I’m done leaving him behind.

    Enjoyed this article? Please support our work!

    ☕ Buy me a coffee: Thank You!

    About Your True Direction

    I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.

    I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.

    That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.

    Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.

    Connect with Us

    Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.

    Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.

  • Soar Beyond Narcissistic Parenting — Reclaim Your Life

    Soar Beyond Narcissistic Parenting — Reclaim Your Life

    By Aiden Cross

    We built upon setting boundaries, cutting the need for their approval, and finding support outside the toxic cycle in the last section. That’s how you start breaking free. But, well, the thing is — freedom is not all about cutting ties with them; it is about building a life that’s truly yours. It is now time to shift from mere survival to out-and-out thriving.

    Stop seeking their approval:

    You’ve spent so much time and energy trying to get something that you will simply never get — your narcissistic parent’s approval. Well, let me tell you something: you don’t need it. Not now, not ever. Their validation doesn’t define you, and it also doesn’t mean anything is wrong with what you are doing because of their lack of validation. You don’t need them to tell you that you’re on the right track. You’re living your life, and that’s all that truly matters.

    So stop giving them the power to make you question yourself.

    Success should be on your own terms — define it this way:

    Narcissistic parents love to make one feel like one is failing unless one meets their preposterous standards. But here is the thing: success is not what they say it is. It is what you say it is. If success for you means finding peace, pursuing a career you love, or building healthy relationships, then you get to decide what that looks and feels like. You get to decide what success means to you, and you get to stop playing by their rules.

    Celebrate your successes, big and small.

    Thriving means acknowledging the distance you’ve gone. Every step you take towards getting back on your feet — even if it seems like a tiny step — is a win. Today, did you stand up to them? That is a win. Did you get to do something without questioning your mind for once? Another win. Celebrate those moments, for they are proof that you are no longer in their control. You’re building what you deserve, and that’s something worth celebrating every damn day.

    Live Your Life Unapologetically:

    Let’s get one thing straight — you’ve wasted enough time apologizing for who you are, trying to fit into the mold your narcissistic parent made for you. No more. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for living your life on your terms. You want to travel? Do it. You want to cut off toxic people? Done. You want to go after that dream they said you’d never achieve? Hell yes.

    It is time to stop living your life for them and start living it for yourself.

    You Got This

    Let me put a wrap on this: leaving a narcissistic parent is far more than just helping yourself get out of an abusive situation; this is about reclaiming everything they sought to take away from you — confidence, independence, your damn self-respect. You have been living too long in the shadow of their manipulation, and now it is time for you to step forth into the light.

    It won’t be easy, and there are going to be setbacks. Some days, you’re going to feel like you slip right back into those old grooves of doubt and fear. But here’s the thing: you’ve already survived the worst of it. You’ve already proved you’re strong enough to endure. Now it’s time to take that strength and build something better — something they can’t touch. You are definitely worth more compared to their criticism, more beyond their controlling grasp, and sure as hell worth more than their distorted need for power. You are an individual unto yourself who can make decisions, thrive, and live a life that’s always been due to you.

    So, what’s holding you back? Drown their voice in your head and raise yours so that it’s the loudest. You got this. It’s time to live like you mean it — unapologetically, authentically, and having full control. Time to un-fuck your life from their grip and take what is yours.

  • The Emotional Beatdown — How Narcissistic Parenting Affects You

    By Aiden Cross

    In the last section, we exposed how narcissistic parents work overtime to undermine your autonomy and keep you dependent on their approval. If you’re feeling like your confidence has taken a hit, you’re not imagining it — this is exactly what they want. Now, let’s talk about the emotional consequences of their manipulation. Spoiler alert: it’s not pretty.

    The Emotional Impact:

    If you’ve been raised by a narcissistic parent, the emotional scars run deep. We’re not just talking about a couple of tough conversations. We’re talking about years — maybe decades — of being told you’re not enough, that you don’t know what you’re talking about, and that your feelings don’t matter. That kind of messaging doesn’t just roll off your back. It sticks.

    Here’s how that constant undermining leaves its mark:

    Self-Doubt Becomes Your Norm

    When your parent keeps hammering the idea that you “don’t understand,” you start internalizing it. You second-guess every decision you make. You don’t trust your own judgment. Even when you’re doing something completely unrelated to them, their voice is in your head, making you wonder if you’re about to mess it all up.

    Narcissistic parents plant seeds of doubt in your mind from a young age, ensuring that you remain dependent on their approval. Over time, this undermining makes it almost impossible to trust your own instincts. Whether it’s a career choice, a relationship, or a minor decision, that nagging voice tells you that you’ll never get it right.

    You Fear Conflict Like the Plague

    Let’s face it — narcissistic parents are exhausting. Every disagreement turns into a drawn-out battle where they have to come out on top. Eventually, you stop trying to stand up for yourself, because it’s just easier to avoid the fight. But guess what? That fear of conflict follows you into other relationships, leaving you afraid to speak up even when you know you’re right.

    You learn that any time you stand up for yourself, it’s going to lead to drama, accusations, or emotional manipulation. Over time, you start to avoid confrontation altogether. Whether it’s with friends, partners, or co-workers, you shy away from asserting yourself because of the trauma of those endless battles growing up.

    Trust Issues Galore

    Narcissistic parents destroy your ability to trust — not just others, but yourself. When your emotions are constantly invalidated, and you’re told your perspective doesn’t matter, it becomes harder to open up to anyone else. You start to believe that no one will truly respect or understand you.

    The constant manipulation and invalidation you’ve experienced make it difficult to trust the intentions of others. Relationships become fraught with doubt, and you may find yourself questioning whether anyone truly has your best interests at heart. Worse, you start to doubt your ability to evaluate people or situations, leading to a cycle of insecurity.

    Anxiety and Depression? Oh, They’re Here

    Constantly being invalidated and emotionally manipulated doesn’t just leave you with hurt feelings — it can lead to full-blown anxiety or depression. You feel stuck, helpless, and convinced that nothing you do will ever be enough. Sound familiar? Yeah, that’s what growing up under a narcissistic parent does.

    Living under the constant pressure of a narcissistic parent wears down your mental health. The unpredictability, the emotional manipulation, and the constant gaslighting all add up. Over time, you might find yourself dealing with chronic anxiety, feeling constantly on edge, or slipping into depression as you struggle to break free from their grip.

    You’re probably feeling the weight of all this emotional baggage, and trust me, you’re not alone. But it’s not over yet. In the next part, we’re going to talk about how to break free from their grip. It’s time to stop giving them control over your life and start taking back your power.

  • Narcissistic Parenting — How They Keep You Small and Powerless

    By Aiden Cross

    Last time, we exposed the sneaky truth behind the phrase, “You’re not a parent, so you don’t understand.” It’s more than just dismissive — it’s a weapon in the narcissist’s arsenal of control. This time, we’re diving even deeper to uncover how narcissistic parents use manipulation to keep you doubting yourself and stuck in their cycle of power plays.

    Here’s the Harsh Reality:

    Narcissistic parents are all about staying on top, and they do it by cutting you down at every turn. It’s not about raising you to be independent or strong — it’s about keeping you dependent, weak, and always questioning your own worth. Why? Because the moment you realize you can think for yourself, their control over you begins to crumble. They can’t have that.

    So, what’s their game plan? Simple — they sabotage your confidence and keep you in a constant loop of self-doubt.

    Undermining Your Independence: The Power Play Behind “You Don’t Understand”

    Every time they throw out the line, “You don’t understand because you’re not a parent,” what they’re really saying is, “Stay in your place. I’m in charge. You’re just the kid.”

    This is more than just a dismissive comment — it’s a tactic to belittle your perspective and reinforce their dominance. It’s a not-so-subtle way of saying, “Don’t even try to have a different opinion, because my status as ‘the parent’ trumps whatever you think.”

    Make no mistake, this isn’t about parental wisdom or experience. It’s about keeping you small and in your lane, always beneath them. It’s about making sure you never feel like you have the right to challenge their authority or make decisions for yourself.

    Emotional Manipulation at Its Finest: Twisting Reality to Keep You in Check

    Narcissistic parents thrive on emotional manipulation because it’s their number one tool for control. They don’t just want to win the argument — they want you to feel like you’re fundamentally wrong for even thinking differently.

    When they drop phrases like “You don’t understand,” it’s not just shutting down the conversation. It’s a tactic to deflect any real dialogue and keep the focus on their superiority. They’ll twist your words, make you second-guess yourself, and deflect any responsibility. The goal is simple: to make you question your reality, leaving you scrambling for their approval.

    It’s gaslighting, plain and simple. And it’s meant to keep you confused, off-balance, and always under their thumb.

    Destroying Your Confidence: The Silent Sabotage

    Here’s the brutal truth — after years of hearing that you “don’t understand,” you start to believe it. Slowly but surely, your confidence erodes. You second-guess your decisions. You doubt your instincts. And that’s exactly what they want.

    Narcissistic parents aren’t interested in your growth or self-assurance. They’d rather keep you insecure because that’s when you’re most vulnerable. That’s when you’re most likely to turn to them for validation, for permission to trust your own judgment.

    This is their endgame: to keep you questioning yourself so they can maintain control over you. It’s a subtle but powerful form of sabotage that leaves deep scars.

    Break the Cycle: Recognize the Game They’re Playing

    This isn’t just a family dynamic — it’s a game, and narcissistic parents play to win. But once you recognize their tactics, you can start to break free. Seeing through the manipulation is the first step in reclaiming your independence, your confidence, and your sense of self.

    Now that we’ve called out how narcissistic parents keep you down, it’s time to talk about the damage it causes. In Part 3, we’ll unpack how this constant emotional manipulation takes a toll on your self-esteem, your trust in others, and your mental health. Spoiler: the fallout is messy, but we’re going to face it head-on and figure out how to heal.

  • The Manipulation Behind ‘You’re Not a Parent, So You Don’t Understand

    By Aiden Cross

    Let me cut to the chase: every time the line is dropped, “You’re not a parent, so you don’t understand,” it’s not some sort of esoteric knowledge they’re trying to impart, which only parents have; it’s a tactical move. It’s a way to silence one before they get to say their piece. We plunge into what is actually happening when this sentence is thrown out, and it’s not pretty: manipulation, plain and simple.

    But what that actually means is, “You’re not a parent, so you don’t count.” What that really means is, “I’m going to dismiss your opinion because I don’t want to be challenged.” It’s not about the complexities of parenting — it’s about control. Above all, narcissistic parents brandish this phrase as a weapon to maintain their authority, shut down dissent, and make sure you stay in your place. They don’t want to teach you anything; all they want to do is save their ego at your expense.

    The thing is, you don’t need kids to understand life, relationships, or emotions. But the narcissistic parents are going to cling to this for dear life and make it their one and only trump card to invalidate your thoughts and feelings. They want you to believe that because you’re not a parent, you’re somehow less qualified to speak on matters. Let’s call that BS.

    Your lived experiences, your emotions, your insights — they don’t count to them, never having had a child notwithstanding. Narcissistic parents do not care about that. They have absolutely no interest in how one feels or what one has to say. What they do care about is topping every argument, keeping control, and reinforcing the notion that you must always give in to them. This is done to keep you in doubt at just that level where you keep quiet.

    This isn’t a casual throwaway line but a premeditated move in some bigger game. It’s about power: narcissistic parents use this phrase as a declaration of dominance, to make crystal clear that they hold the expertise and that, for some reason or another, you are somehow beneath them. And over time, this line eats away at your confidence. You start to wonder whether your perspective counts for anything at all. You begin to question yourself, thinking, “Perhaps they are right; maybe I’m the one who just doesn’t get it.” But don’t fall for it.

    What’s Next?

    Now that we have peeled back the layers around this manipulative phrase, let’s dig deeper. In the next part, we will discuss how narcissistic parents don’t stop at the one-line deliveries but have a complete set of tactics to keep you doubting yourself and undermine any kind of independence from them. Think that was bad? Wait until we unpack their full strategy.